Do what you need to do.....That is what he said to me. In my dream this morning. I don't usually dream of Brian, and when I do it is usually a dream where he is still alive (or maybe he has died and come back, I can never tell) and I am begging him to do something that will help him not to die. I wake up from those dreams feeling like I should have done more. Maybe if I had pushed harder he would still be here....This was not that kind of dream. There have been so many changes lately, big changes. Being alone and not part of a couple for the first time since I was 15 for one. I am still getting used to being an only parent and we are trying to settle into some kind of normal. Now, selling the practice. That's a big one. Though I am thankful for the fact that it is sold I am still so very upset at how it happened. I can tell you without hesitation that Brian NEVER no matter WHAT the circumstances would have done what Dr. C did. His ethics and his morals would have prevented him from picking up and moving the way she did. I am trying not to let that get to me, but it does, and because of her actions I had to sell the practice for a lot less than I was originally asking. The new owners have been into the clinic and are moving things around. My front office person called me and said she wondered if this was upsetting Brian, is he ok with this? Yes, he is. I know because he told me this morning......
In my dream I was telling him about the changes and telling him how each room was going to be used. I asked him what he thought, and he said that they needed to make it work for them, and that is ok with him. I told him that yesterday we discovered that our first tenant, a hair salon owner, had cut the power supply to the outside light that they had mounted on our building to illuminate her sign. They left the ugly light out there, but literally cut the power cord to it so that it could not be used. Classy, huh? I asked Brian if he knew that, he said no, but it didn't surprise him. He was shaking his head and smiling as he said this as if to say "some people...."
After that I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in his neck. I could actually smell him and feel the warmth of his skin on my face. I could hear his voice soothing me. He held me tight and I cried. He told me to do what I needed to do, that he was right there, and if I needed to cry to do that. He told me that he would always be there. I could feel him, I could smell him, I could hear him. It was SO REAL. I woke myself up because I was sobbing in my sleep. I wanted to stay asleep, I wanted to stay with him, but I couldn't. I couldn't stay in the one place where for the first time in 6 months I felt safe and loved. Today I am full of tears and loneliness. I feel the despair of being a widow. I HATE being a widow. I hate that Brian had to die. I hate the fact that I have been thrown into this world of loneliness, sadness and uncertainty.
If I close my eyes I can still picture my face cuddled into his neck, I can still imagine his arms wrapped around me and me clinging to him. I miss my Brian. I miss the life we were supposed to have. Today my winding path of widowhood has become a steep hill, plunging me into who knows what. I will hold onto Brian's words though, "Do what you need to do" I believe that while they were spoken at a specific moment they have much greater meaning. I believe that he is giving me permission to move forward. I know this is something that was, and apparently still is, important to him, and I am trying, I am REALLY trying, but it is hard. "Do what you need to do" I will Brian, I promise I will.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Laughter
Last night I went to a comedy club with a friend. I had gotten an email that the comedy club was donating 50% of their profits to Camp Kesem, a camp run by UW students for children who have (or had, as is sadly our case) a parent with cancer. My kids went to Camp Kesem last year and LOVED it. They still talk about it and can't wait for the next one. So, after getting this email I called a friend and asked her if she would like to go with me. She said sure, so the plans were made.....I can't tell you how many times I almost called to cancel. I don't know WHY I was so nervous, but I was. Brian and I didn't DO things like this! It isn't that we wouldn't have, but with 4 kids it was hard to get out. Going to a place like this was out of my comfort zone. Going out period is out of my comfort zone right now! I pushed through though and the determination to not be held hostage by my grief won.
So, we get to the club, wait in line, get to the counter to pay and find out that we needed reservations, ooooops! Never even considered THAT one! We were put on a waiting list and were called just before the show started, we literally got the last two seats. There was a two drink minimum , so I started with a glass of wine. At one point I took a drink and the first comedian said something that made me laugh so hard that I couldn't swallow. I almost spit my mouthful of wine onto my friend! As I swallowed, still laughing I inhaled some wine, so for the rest of the evening I was coughing, trying to get it out of my lungs! My next drink was a grasshopper....yummy, and with that one came the headlining comedian. He was hysterical! I laughed so hard for so long that I couldn't breathe. It was AWESOME!! My abs hurt today from laughing so much.
I am SO glad that I didn't cancel. We had a great time. I needed last night, not only for the fact that I had FUN, but also for the fact that I can still laugh. More importantly though I proved to myself that doing something out of my comfort zone is a GOOD thing. It helped give me a little bit of strength and confidence, two things that I desperately need as I wind my way through widowhood.
For more information about Camp Kesem visit: http://www.campkesem.org
So, we get to the club, wait in line, get to the counter to pay and find out that we needed reservations, ooooops! Never even considered THAT one! We were put on a waiting list and were called just before the show started, we literally got the last two seats. There was a two drink minimum , so I started with a glass of wine. At one point I took a drink and the first comedian said something that made me laugh so hard that I couldn't swallow. I almost spit my mouthful of wine onto my friend! As I swallowed, still laughing I inhaled some wine, so for the rest of the evening I was coughing, trying to get it out of my lungs! My next drink was a grasshopper....yummy, and with that one came the headlining comedian. He was hysterical! I laughed so hard for so long that I couldn't breathe. It was AWESOME!! My abs hurt today from laughing so much.
I am SO glad that I didn't cancel. We had a great time. I needed last night, not only for the fact that I had FUN, but also for the fact that I can still laugh. More importantly though I proved to myself that doing something out of my comfort zone is a GOOD thing. It helped give me a little bit of strength and confidence, two things that I desperately need as I wind my way through widowhood.
For more information about Camp Kesem visit: http://www.campkesem.org
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Sunrise.....sunset
This morning when I got up I looked out my front window and saw the sun. It had just risen to a point where it was fully visible above the houses across the street. I thought of Brian and how much he LOVED watching the sun come up. Don't get me wrong, he didn't do it on a daily basis, but whenever he went hunting he would always come home and tell me how beautiful the sunrise was. Every sunrise marks a new day, a new day without my Brian, but a day that I can make mine. Today was no different, well, it was a little different......no, it was a LOT different.....
Today I met a man at our clinic where we very carefully hoisted Jimmy the bear into his truck. Jimmy is a nice looking black bear with a white "V" on his chest that has adjourned our clinic since 2006. That bear hunting trip was the last one Brian took before he was diagnosed, and I am sure that he saw many beautiful fall sunrises during those days in Northern Wisconsin. Jimmy, and his cohorts, Roscoe the raccoon (no, Brian didn't shoot that one, but it was a funny story!) Berry (named by Abbie) the deer head, and Davenport the pheasant have gone to live at the Aldo Leopold Nature Center in Madison. Jimmy stood proudly in the back of this mans pickup truck, and he looked as though he was navigating the way. I would have loved to ride with them into Madison, just to see the people they passed point at the bear in the back of the truck, but I had business to take care of, as today was a day that would again change the rest of my life.....
You see, today I sold our chiropractic clinic. It is finally a done deal, and while I am glad that it is over I am also immensely sad. I spent my entire adult life working towards this goal. I supported Brian throughout his education. I took jobs at dental offices while he went to school so I could learn how to run a clinic, you'd never know that I have a Masters degree in Home Economics (Apparel Design major). I worked side by side with him at Cottage Chiropractic for almost 10 years, and when he stopped practicing I did my best (which often did not seem like enough) to keep it going in the hopes that one day he could go back to the profession he so loved. As of today it is no longer mine. I feel like I have lost a huge piece of Brian with the sale of the practice, and in many ways it feels like yet another death. I guess in many ways it is......I am sad to see the sun set on this part of our lives, this part of MY life.
As the sun set today it hit me how very sad I am. Tonight was one of those complete melt down nights where I was on the floor crying about how I want my life back, with my two little ones on either side of me hugging me and telling me it will be alright. My kids, they are SO amazing. I would do anything to have Jimmy back where he belongs in the clinic and to see Brian smile as he takes back his next patient. Anything. Of course we all know there is nothing that can be done. Tomorrow will be another sunrise, another day. Who knows what it will bring. Evening will come and the sun will set again. Sunrise.....sunset. Each sunrise and sunset bringing me closer to a place of healing and at the same time bringing me one day closer to again being with my Brian. Sunrise.....sunset.....Sunrise.....sunset...........
You see, today I sold our chiropractic clinic. It is finally a done deal, and while I am glad that it is over I am also immensely sad. I spent my entire adult life working towards this goal. I supported Brian throughout his education. I took jobs at dental offices while he went to school so I could learn how to run a clinic, you'd never know that I have a Masters degree in Home Economics (Apparel Design major). I worked side by side with him at Cottage Chiropractic for almost 10 years, and when he stopped practicing I did my best (which often did not seem like enough) to keep it going in the hopes that one day he could go back to the profession he so loved. As of today it is no longer mine. I feel like I have lost a huge piece of Brian with the sale of the practice, and in many ways it feels like yet another death. I guess in many ways it is......I am sad to see the sun set on this part of our lives, this part of MY life.
As the sun set today it hit me how very sad I am. Tonight was one of those complete melt down nights where I was on the floor crying about how I want my life back, with my two little ones on either side of me hugging me and telling me it will be alright. My kids, they are SO amazing. I would do anything to have Jimmy back where he belongs in the clinic and to see Brian smile as he takes back his next patient. Anything. Of course we all know there is nothing that can be done. Tomorrow will be another sunrise, another day. Who knows what it will bring. Evening will come and the sun will set again. Sunrise.....sunset. Each sunrise and sunset bringing me closer to a place of healing and at the same time bringing me one day closer to again being with my Brian. Sunrise.....sunset.....Sunrise.....sunset...........
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Valentines day.....Diagnosis day
Valentines Day. A day that in any given year prior to this, well most of them at least, was a good day. I remember our first Valentines day together. We had been dating for just over two months and just a few days earlier Brian had given me a beautiful sapphire and diamond ring and asked me to be his girlfriend. I thought he was crazy, buying me something that expensive after only two months, but it was at that point that I knew he wasn't like other guys. I don't remember where we went, but I do remember that we went to dinner and maybe a movie for that first Valentines date. What I remember most though about that night was what Brian did for my mom. My mom's birthday is the day after Valentines day. She was getting ready to go out with my dad and Brian went upstairs and into their bedroom. He had bought her a mug with flowers in it and as he handed it to her he said "Happy Birthday Little Girl!" I remember how surprised and pleased she was. That was classic Brian, so VERY sweet, kind and loving. Keep in mind that he was 19 and a senior in high school at the time. Like I said, he wasn't like other guys.
One year when I was in college I bought a fitted red dress for Valentines day. Brian loved me in red. We went to Paisan's (our favorite restaurant) for dinner and then to the circus. Brian couldn't keep his eyes off of me that night and was feeling pretty smug because neither could our waiter! He gave me perfume that night called Red. Actually, "our" song was by Chris DeBurgh and was called "Lady in Red".
Valentines day in the year 2000 we were celebrating being new parents with our 9 day old baby girl. The next Valentines day we were celebrating the fact that we were going to be parents again!
2006 was a different kind of Valentines day. We had already had several appointments and tests to try to find out what was wrong with Brian. In January he had had an ERCP (actually 2, because they could not complete the first one) and though that doctor said "there is some concern of a tumor, but I think we are dealing with pancreatitus" Brian was referred on to the UW Hospital for yet another procedure called an EUS. That procedure was scheduled for 2 weeks later on Valentines day. Really? Did we have to do it on THAT day? Of course we were at the mercy of the doctors schedule because this was a very specialized procedure and there aren't a lot of doctors who do it, so Valentines day it was. I remember driving down the street and starting to talk to Brian about what was going on. By now it was assumed that he had pancreatic cancer and this was the test that was supposed to confirm it. He wouldn't talk about it. We drove to the hospital mostly in silence. I have to tell you, the doctor that did his EUS set the tone for me for Brian's cancer. At the end of the procedure he came and talked with me about his findings. He had taken samples from surrounding lymph nodes and those had come back negative for cancer. There was indeed a tumor but he thought it might be operable (it wasn't) when I asked him about it, his response was "I fear we are dealing with a cancerous tumor." At no point did he go into the dire statistics of pancreatic cancer. At no point did he tell me that Brian was going to die from this. At no point did he give me the impression that there was no hope. Instead he referred us to the pancreatic surgeon that he thought was the absolute best in the UW system. I also think that when the surgeon tried to reschedule our appointment for a later date that he talked to her and got us in sooner. Valentines day 2006 I left the hospital with my wonderful Brian wondering if it would be our last.........
We were lucky to have five more. I wish it was fifty, although I would be 92 and he 94...hmmmm, maybe just forty! Even though he always said that Valentines day was a "Hallmark holiday" it never went unnoticed. As I was cleaning out his sock drawer I found five Valentine cards in the bottom. My guess is he bought them in advance and then forgot he had them. I really struggled with what to do with these cards this year. Do I give them to the kids from me or from dad? In the end I wrote both mom and dad on the cards and put a halo above dad. I told them that he bought the cards and forgot to give them to us. They all seemed to like that....it was the right choice. My kids made Valentine day hearts for me with my mother-in-law and gave me a heart filled with chocolates. They also made hearts for Brian, that made me cry, as it was sweet and sad at the same time. Hannah bought me flowers. They helped make the day special for me. At one point this morning I felt a tingle in my chin. This is the feeling I equate with Brian being near and giving me a kiss. Sometimes it is on my nose, other times I feel it on the top of my head, today it was my chin. It made me smile, just a little. As I was cleaning, I found the card he gave to me last year. On the cover it has a simple red dress and says "My Wife.... I want to love you like you've never been loved before..." (open) "...because that's the way I feel loved by you." Inside he wrote: "Yes, you are still the woman in Red". I miss my Brian every day, he was a great dad and husband, but days like today I miss him a little more.
I love you Brian, Happy Valentines Day. I will always be your Lady in Red!
Chris DeBurgh, Lady in Red:
http://youtu.be/iFcuN2zI3u0
One year when I was in college I bought a fitted red dress for Valentines day. Brian loved me in red. We went to Paisan's (our favorite restaurant) for dinner and then to the circus. Brian couldn't keep his eyes off of me that night and was feeling pretty smug because neither could our waiter! He gave me perfume that night called Red. Actually, "our" song was by Chris DeBurgh and was called "Lady in Red".
Valentines day in the year 2000 we were celebrating being new parents with our 9 day old baby girl. The next Valentines day we were celebrating the fact that we were going to be parents again!
2006 was a different kind of Valentines day. We had already had several appointments and tests to try to find out what was wrong with Brian. In January he had had an ERCP (actually 2, because they could not complete the first one) and though that doctor said "there is some concern of a tumor, but I think we are dealing with pancreatitus" Brian was referred on to the UW Hospital for yet another procedure called an EUS. That procedure was scheduled for 2 weeks later on Valentines day. Really? Did we have to do it on THAT day? Of course we were at the mercy of the doctors schedule because this was a very specialized procedure and there aren't a lot of doctors who do it, so Valentines day it was. I remember driving down the street and starting to talk to Brian about what was going on. By now it was assumed that he had pancreatic cancer and this was the test that was supposed to confirm it. He wouldn't talk about it. We drove to the hospital mostly in silence. I have to tell you, the doctor that did his EUS set the tone for me for Brian's cancer. At the end of the procedure he came and talked with me about his findings. He had taken samples from surrounding lymph nodes and those had come back negative for cancer. There was indeed a tumor but he thought it might be operable (it wasn't) when I asked him about it, his response was "I fear we are dealing with a cancerous tumor." At no point did he go into the dire statistics of pancreatic cancer. At no point did he tell me that Brian was going to die from this. At no point did he give me the impression that there was no hope. Instead he referred us to the pancreatic surgeon that he thought was the absolute best in the UW system. I also think that when the surgeon tried to reschedule our appointment for a later date that he talked to her and got us in sooner. Valentines day 2006 I left the hospital with my wonderful Brian wondering if it would be our last.........
We were lucky to have five more. I wish it was fifty, although I would be 92 and he 94...hmmmm, maybe just forty! Even though he always said that Valentines day was a "Hallmark holiday" it never went unnoticed. As I was cleaning out his sock drawer I found five Valentine cards in the bottom. My guess is he bought them in advance and then forgot he had them. I really struggled with what to do with these cards this year. Do I give them to the kids from me or from dad? In the end I wrote both mom and dad on the cards and put a halo above dad. I told them that he bought the cards and forgot to give them to us. They all seemed to like that....it was the right choice. My kids made Valentine day hearts for me with my mother-in-law and gave me a heart filled with chocolates. They also made hearts for Brian, that made me cry, as it was sweet and sad at the same time. Hannah bought me flowers. They helped make the day special for me. At one point this morning I felt a tingle in my chin. This is the feeling I equate with Brian being near and giving me a kiss. Sometimes it is on my nose, other times I feel it on the top of my head, today it was my chin. It made me smile, just a little. As I was cleaning, I found the card he gave to me last year. On the cover it has a simple red dress and says "My Wife.... I want to love you like you've never been loved before..." (open) "...because that's the way I feel loved by you." Inside he wrote: "Yes, you are still the woman in Red". I miss my Brian every day, he was a great dad and husband, but days like today I miss him a little more.
I love you Brian, Happy Valentines Day. I will always be your Lady in Red!
Chris DeBurgh, Lady in Red:
http://youtu.be/iFcuN2zI3u0
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Can you see the moon?
Dear Brian,
As I was driving home from the grocery store tonight the moon was hanging low and full and bright right in front of me. Were you looking at it too? I spoke to you as I drove home and asked you if you could see the moon. I told you how much I miss you and that I wish you were here. I had a good day, but then this evening something changed, I don't know what, but all of a sudden I was just SAD. I went into our room and cried. Tucker came in and told me that I would be okay, that he would take care of me. He said he would be the man of the house....maybe when he's 12 he said. I told him he doesn't have to do that, that I just want him to be a little boy and that is okay. I wish you were here to take care of me, to take care of all of us.
You were my moon, Brian. The kids are my stars. Just like on the pendant you bought me for our anniversary with 4 stars and the full moon on it. Tonight as I sleep, I know the moon will creep to the backside of the house and shine bright through our bedroom window. As the moon lights our room, maybe it will bring dreams of you to me. Maybe it will bring comfort because once again, my moon is in my room.
I miss you. I love you. Can you see the moon?
Love, Me
As I was driving home from the grocery store tonight the moon was hanging low and full and bright right in front of me. Were you looking at it too? I spoke to you as I drove home and asked you if you could see the moon. I told you how much I miss you and that I wish you were here. I had a good day, but then this evening something changed, I don't know what, but all of a sudden I was just SAD. I went into our room and cried. Tucker came in and told me that I would be okay, that he would take care of me. He said he would be the man of the house....maybe when he's 12 he said. I told him he doesn't have to do that, that I just want him to be a little boy and that is okay. I wish you were here to take care of me, to take care of all of us.
You were my moon, Brian. The kids are my stars. Just like on the pendant you bought me for our anniversary with 4 stars and the full moon on it. Tonight as I sleep, I know the moon will creep to the backside of the house and shine bright through our bedroom window. As the moon lights our room, maybe it will bring dreams of you to me. Maybe it will bring comfort because once again, my moon is in my room.
I miss you. I love you. Can you see the moon?
Love, Me
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Camp Hope
This past weekend the kids and I went to Camp Hope. Camp Hope is a camp for families that have had a loss. It started out as a camp for grieving children, but has grown to include a camp for adults as well. This was our second time going, the first was just 4 weeks after Brian died. They hold the camp three times a year, May and October, and then the following February is a reunion camp. It is awesome. The kids are at one camp and the adults are at another, except for the reunion when we are all at the same facility. The activities are wonderful, but for me the real advantage is that I am around people who GET IT.
Saturday morning, we were late of course. We always are. It doesn't matter how hard I try or how much advance packing I have done, we never leave on time, and this weekend was no different. The kids were fighting and jockeying for position in the car instead of helping me finish up what had to be done before we could leave. I had a headache (I really miss being able to ask Brian to adjust me which instantly got rid of my headaches) which did not improve even with Tylenol. We finally made it to Camp, almost an hour late, and I was welcomed with a big hug and told that they were glad we were there. The kids were already in their groups, getting to know one another and the adults were drumming. My first thought was "Great, drumming. Loud noise and physical activity is NOT going to help this headache!" As soon as I walked into the building and saw some of the familiar faces from the October camp my headache was gone. I was with people who truly understand.
We did our drumming, and it is incredible to me that you can have a room full of people playing different percussion instruments who have NO idea what they are doing and you still end up with a cohesive sound throughout the room. Chaos coming together neatly. Hmmm.....a goal for my new life? Later we had a guided imagery session and then journaled after that, many tears flowed as I wrote my letter to Brian. That night we had a candlelight remembrance ceremony, with both the adults and the kids. This one was hard. It started out by having a wonderful singer/songwriter named Claire sing to the group. As she started to play, I was instantly transported to my first visit to Camp Hope. We had a candlelight ceremony then too. Only that time we were sitting around a bonfire while Claire played her guitar and sang. I remember how incredibly devastated I was that night how hopeless I felt. I remember looking off into the woods and KNOWING exactly where Brian was. Don't get me wrong, I couldn't see him, but I KNEW exactly where he stood, watching me. I sobbed as I lit my candle and talked about my husband. The memory of that night and those feelings of devastation and hopelessness came flooding back and I found myself fighting to hold back the sobs that were just under the surface. Tucker, my sweet Tucker, was sitting across from me and saw the tears. I watched as he got up and went into the bathroom and then back across to the other side of the room and then he walked over to me and handed me some toilet paper "Here mom, tissue for you" then he hugged me and went back to his seat. He reminded me SO much of Brian at that moment, and when I told him that later he just smiled. As we went around the room and lit our candles we each said something about our loved ones. I said that Brian was my light and that I was so lucky because he left me with four bright stars that light my way as I go through the shadows of grief. Tucker said that his dad loved archery, Abbie said that when we went to Disney World her dad sat next to her on all of the scary rides, Hannah said he was the best dad she could ever have, Genevieve was so quiet when she lit her candle that I couldn't hear what she said. It was an incredibly moving night.
Sunday started out with a yoga class, then brunch with the kids. The adults went to the "low ropes" course and crossed ropes that jiggled and wiggled under our feet. Jokes were made and I laughed so hard I couldn't stand up straight. I realized that I haven't laughed like that in over 6 months. It felt good, no, it felt GREAT! At the end we had our closing ceremony, and the adult campers were called up to the stage. The entertainer then started to sing the "Bellybutton" song. Ok, I've had four kids....there was no way I was lifting my shirt to show off my bellybutton....but it was HILARIOUS to see how embarrassed my kids were to see me up on the stage for that song!
It was a good weekend, and though we had a rough start we all had a great time. I am hoping that we can go back in May, and all of the kids agreed that they would like to do that. Some of the adult campers got together and decided to plan a weekend camping trip for all of us to get together with our families and stay in touch. I love that idea!
Camp Hope. I cried for my loss, but I laughed too. I left feeling both happy and energized. I left realizing that I no longer have that feeling of total devastation and hopelessness. I left knowing that though it has only been 5 months (which sounds like a long time, but feels like a few short weeks) I have made progress with my loss. I left with HOPE.
For more information on Camp Hope visit: www.camphopeforkids.org/
Saturday morning, we were late of course. We always are. It doesn't matter how hard I try or how much advance packing I have done, we never leave on time, and this weekend was no different. The kids were fighting and jockeying for position in the car instead of helping me finish up what had to be done before we could leave. I had a headache (I really miss being able to ask Brian to adjust me which instantly got rid of my headaches) which did not improve even with Tylenol. We finally made it to Camp, almost an hour late, and I was welcomed with a big hug and told that they were glad we were there. The kids were already in their groups, getting to know one another and the adults were drumming. My first thought was "Great, drumming. Loud noise and physical activity is NOT going to help this headache!" As soon as I walked into the building and saw some of the familiar faces from the October camp my headache was gone. I was with people who truly understand.
We did our drumming, and it is incredible to me that you can have a room full of people playing different percussion instruments who have NO idea what they are doing and you still end up with a cohesive sound throughout the room. Chaos coming together neatly. Hmmm.....a goal for my new life? Later we had a guided imagery session and then journaled after that, many tears flowed as I wrote my letter to Brian. That night we had a candlelight remembrance ceremony, with both the adults and the kids. This one was hard. It started out by having a wonderful singer/songwriter named Claire sing to the group. As she started to play, I was instantly transported to my first visit to Camp Hope. We had a candlelight ceremony then too. Only that time we were sitting around a bonfire while Claire played her guitar and sang. I remember how incredibly devastated I was that night how hopeless I felt. I remember looking off into the woods and KNOWING exactly where Brian was. Don't get me wrong, I couldn't see him, but I KNEW exactly where he stood, watching me. I sobbed as I lit my candle and talked about my husband. The memory of that night and those feelings of devastation and hopelessness came flooding back and I found myself fighting to hold back the sobs that were just under the surface. Tucker, my sweet Tucker, was sitting across from me and saw the tears. I watched as he got up and went into the bathroom and then back across to the other side of the room and then he walked over to me and handed me some toilet paper "Here mom, tissue for you" then he hugged me and went back to his seat. He reminded me SO much of Brian at that moment, and when I told him that later he just smiled. As we went around the room and lit our candles we each said something about our loved ones. I said that Brian was my light and that I was so lucky because he left me with four bright stars that light my way as I go through the shadows of grief. Tucker said that his dad loved archery, Abbie said that when we went to Disney World her dad sat next to her on all of the scary rides, Hannah said he was the best dad she could ever have, Genevieve was so quiet when she lit her candle that I couldn't hear what she said. It was an incredibly moving night.
Sunday started out with a yoga class, then brunch with the kids. The adults went to the "low ropes" course and crossed ropes that jiggled and wiggled under our feet. Jokes were made and I laughed so hard I couldn't stand up straight. I realized that I haven't laughed like that in over 6 months. It felt good, no, it felt GREAT! At the end we had our closing ceremony, and the adult campers were called up to the stage. The entertainer then started to sing the "Bellybutton" song. Ok, I've had four kids....there was no way I was lifting my shirt to show off my bellybutton....but it was HILARIOUS to see how embarrassed my kids were to see me up on the stage for that song!
It was a good weekend, and though we had a rough start we all had a great time. I am hoping that we can go back in May, and all of the kids agreed that they would like to do that. Some of the adult campers got together and decided to plan a weekend camping trip for all of us to get together with our families and stay in touch. I love that idea!
Camp Hope. I cried for my loss, but I laughed too. I left feeling both happy and energized. I left realizing that I no longer have that feeling of total devastation and hopelessness. I left knowing that though it has only been 5 months (which sounds like a long time, but feels like a few short weeks) I have made progress with my loss. I left with HOPE.
For more information on Camp Hope visit: www.camphopeforkids.org/
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)